82
" Then Jip went up to the front of the ship and smelt the wind; and he started muttering to himself," Tar; Spanish onions; kerosene oil; wet raincoats; crushed laurel-leaves; rubber burning; lace-curtains being washed--No, my mistake, lace-curtains hanging out to dry; and foxes--hundreds of 'em--cubs; and--" " Can you really smell all those different things in this one wind?" asked the Doctor." Why, of course!" said Jip. " And those are only a few of the easy smells--the strong ones. Any mongrel could smell those with a cold in the head. Wait now, and I'll tell you some of the harder scents that are coming on this wind--a few of the dainty ones." Then the dog shut his eyes tight, poked his nose straight up in the air and sniffed hard with his mouth half-open.For a long time he said nothing. He kept as still as a stone. He hardly seemed to be breathing at all. When at last he began to speak, it sounded almost as though he were singing, sadly, in a dream." Bricks," he whispered, very low--" old yellow bricks, crumbling with age in a garden-wall; the sweet breath of young cows standing in a mountain-stream; the lead roof of a dove-cote--or perhaps agranary--with the mid-day sun on it; black kid gloves lying in a bureau-drawer of walnut-wood; a dusty road with a horses' drinking-trough beneath the sycamores; little mushrooms burstingthrough the rotting leaves; and--and--and--" " Any parsnips?" asked Gub-Gub." No," said Jip. " You always think of things to eat. No parsnips whatever. "
83
" Among the people to whom he belonged, nothing was written or talked about at that time except the Serbian war. Everything that the idle crowd usually does to kill time, it now did for the benefit of the Slavs: balls, concerts, dinners, speeches, ladies' dresses, beer, restaurants—all bore witness to our sympathy with the Slavs.
With much that was spoken and written on the subject Konyshev did not agree in detail. He saw that the Slav question had become one of those fashionable diversions which, ever succeeding one another, serve to occupy Society; he saw that too many people took up the question from interested motives. He admitted that the papers published much that was unnecessary and exaggerated with the sole aim of drawing attention to themselves, each outcrying the other. He saw that amid this general elation in Society those who were unsuccessful or discontented leapt to the front and shouted louder than anyone else: Commanders-in-Chief without armies, Ministers without portfolios, journalists without papers, and party leaders without followers. He saw that there was much that was frivolous and ridiculous; but he also saw and admitted the unquestionable and ever-growing enthusiasm which was uniting all classes of society, and with which one could not help sympathizing. The massacre of our coreligionists and brother Slavs evoked sympathy for the sufferers and indignation against their oppressors. And the heroism of the Serbs and Montenegrins, fighting for a great cause, aroused in the whole nation a desire to help their brothers not only with words but by deeds.
Also there was an accompanying fact that pleased Koznyshev. It was the manifestation of public opinion. The nation had definitely expressed its wishes. As Koznyshev put it, ' the soul of the nation had become articulate.' The more he went into this question, the clearer it seemed to him that it was a matter which would attain enormous proportions and become epoch-making. "
― Leo Tolstoy , Anna Karenina
97
" David strode through the battle raging between his men and the castle defenders in the courtyard and headed straight for the keep, intent on his goal.
The castle would fall quickly. The defenders lacked leadership and were in disarray. His only concern was whether the castle had a secret tunnel for escape. During the siege, he had spread his men out through the fields surrounding the fortress to keep watch. But he had concentrated his forces for the attack and most were now inside the castle. If there was a tunnel, he must secure the widow and her daughters before they had a chance to escape. He did not relish the idea of having to chase them down through the fields with dogs.
The defenders had foolishly waited too long to withdraw to the keep, and most were caught in the courtyard when David’s men burst through the gate. He barely spared them a glance as he ran up the steps of the keep.
With several of his warriors at his back, he burst through the doors brandishing his sword. He paused inside the entrance to hall. Women and children were screaming, and the few Blackadder warriors who had made it inside were overturning tables in a useless attempt to set up a defense.
“If ye hope for mercy, drop your weapons,” David shouted, making his voice heard above the chaos.
He locked gazes with the men who hesitated to obey his order until every weapon clanked to the floor, then he swept his gaze over the women. Their clothing confirmed what he’d known the moment he entered the hall. Blackadder’s widow was not in the room.
“Where is she?” he demanded of the closest Blackadder man.
“Who, m’lord?” the man said, shifting his gaze to the side.
“Your mistress!” David picked him up by the front of his tunic and leaned in close. “Tell me now.”
“In her bedchamber,” the man squeaked, pointing to an arched doorway. “’Tis up the stairs.”
David caught a sudden whiff of urine and dropped the man to the floor in disgust. The wretch had wet himself.
“Take him to the dungeon,” he ordered. The coward had given up his mistress far too easily. "
― Margaret Mallory , Captured by a Laird (The Douglas Legacy, #1)
98
" Jacques appeared on his hands and knees, peering around the corner of the cabin. His dark eyes lit with pleasure when he saw her. The baby flashed Antonia his wide grin and scooted toward her. Only in the last two days had he gone from pushing himself across the floor to a hands-and-knees crawl.
Henri trailed so close behind Jacques that he had to walk wide-legged so he didn’t step on his brother.
The baby reached her, placed his hands on her legs, and pressed himself up, grabbing at the front of her tunic. “Maa.”
Antonia hugged Jacques. He’d soiled his rabbit skin diaper and smelled, but she held him close, needing to feel the baby in her arms.
He wiggled in protest.
She dropped a kiss on his forehead and reached up to her shoulder to unlace the leather ties of her tunic, pulling the flap down to free her breast. He began to suckle greedily.
Henri dropped to her other side and leaned against her.
Antonia put her arm around him. Just holding her sons brought her comfort but also increased her despair. What do I be doin’ now?
Should I be takin’ the boys and leave? Head for Sweetwater Springs?
Antonia shook her head. No! I won’t be leavin’ Jean-Claude. Cain’t leave my home.
But without her husband to provide for them, she didn’t know how long she’d be able to manage on her own.
Somehow, I’ll be findin’ a way, Antonia vowed. "
― Debra Holland , Healing Montana Sky (Montana Sky, #5)
